“Dad.”
His eyes never leave the report as he speaks. “Melvin said your house was ransacked, Sienna. And that the woman who did it sent you compromising photos of her with your boyfriend, someone I didn’t know you were dating, much less living with.”
A harsh laugh rips from my mouth. “Why would I tell you anything when I only see you on the rare federal holiday? I know more about you from reading gossip magazines than from anything you ever tell me, so why would I bother?”
Finally, he looks up with a sigh. “Is this about Penelope again?”
“Fuck Penelope. This is about why you seem to think it’s okay to sweep into my life and take it over.”
His lips tighten before he takes a sip of his coffee. “Must you use that kind of language?”
I’ve heard my father in meetings. He curses like a sailor. “Better to be known as a sinner than a hypocrite.” I love proverbs. They’re so quotable.
His jaw twitches. “Sienna, why are you being so blasé about this situation? Were you actually planning to stay in a house with a man who cheated on you? I thought I raised you to have more self-respect than that.”
After all the crying I did last night, I’m surprised when my eyes sting. I thought I was cried out.
I manage to keep my shit together even though having my father drag out all of my mistakes like this is utterly humiliating.
I try to explain things as calmly as possible. Given that my father took it upon himself to move me out of my house, I think that’s saying something.
“Melvin installed a security system, so I wasn’t in any danger, and I had planned to talk to Ben before I made any decisions. That’s what reasonable adults do, Dad. They discuss things.”
Unlike my parents, who got a divorce and never told me anything until it was over. Brutal doesn’t begin to describe it.
Ever since I tossed Cal’s laptop out the window, I’ve been thinking I need to marinate on things more and react less. Perhaps if I hadn’t lost my shit that night I wouldn’t have been brained in the head with a bottle.
Although... I really don’t regret trashing his laptop. He’s an ass for using me the way he did, and if I could knee him in the balls, I totally would.
But I’m ten times more fucked up by the possibility Ben cheated on me. Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how he could do something like that. Which is different than Cal, who was dropping red flags left and right.
Cal never took me anywhere except to his house, where it was just him and a couple of his roommates. I only went to a couple of his parties, and we spent most of the time in his bedroom. We never did anything really social. Even though Ben and I haven’t had much time to be social, I never felt like I was his dirty little secret.
When I spoke to Gabby this morning before I left Dallas, she swore up and down that Ben would never do me dirty like this. She wondered if those photos had been Photoshopped.
If so, the person did a convincing job of it.
But it got me thinking that maybe not everything is as it appears.
At the same time, I don’t want to be a complete dumbass. My last boyfriend cheated on me. It’s possible Ben did too.
And had I not left my phone on the roof of the car I rented in Dallas, I could tell him he’s an asshole.
I groan when I think about the dumpster fire my life has become. Who stops for gas and loses their phone? That would be me.
Sighing, I rub my throbbing temples.
I hadn’t meant to unload everything on Melvin late last night, but I wasn’t sure what to do. Since Melvin has the codes for all of my father’s properties, I thought he’d let me stay at my dad’s suite in Austin for a couple of days, just until I calmed down, to give me time to process everything. Time to pull myself together so I could talk to Ben without screaming or crying.
Melvin, who also has the security code to my house, offered to send a female assistant to get my yoga mat, some toiletries, and a couple of outfits. That’s it.
Instead, he spoke to my father about it first thing this morning, who instructed him to clear out my two bedrooms. And then my dad blew into town and tried to take over my life.
My father starts flipping through his report again. “You need a security detail.”
“No.”
“This is nonnegotiable.”
“I’ll never fly under the radar if your Men in Black crew follow me everywhere.”
“I was thinking you could take a leave of absence or finish your classes remotely from California. And if you’re back home, you could help me with the foundation.”
“I’m not leaving Texas.”
“I’ve already spoken to the dean. He says it’s not a problem. He wants a donation for the stadium renovations. It’s a win-win.”
I’m so upset, I can barely speak. When I don’t say anything because I’m trying not to lose my shit, he nods. “So it’s settled. I’ll have Melvin move the rest of your belongings and—”
“Dad, nothing is settled! I was silent because I’m trying to talk myself out of leaping across the table and beating you over the head with your stupid report.”
One of the security guys chuckles, but then coughs to cover it up. That tick in my dad’s jaw goes off again. Internally, I cringe because when this little get-together is over, that security guy will probably be fired. Melvin would be fired too for not telling my father about the break-in sooner, except he’s my dad’s oldest friend and college roommate. Not to mention Melvin is family.
My dad clears his throat. Fixes his gold cuff links. Takes a sip of his coffee. “Be reasonable, Sienna.”
“Says the man who treats me like a project he can manage.” I think about that for a second. “No, scratch that. Your projects get written up on whiteboards and studied and prioritized. I haven’t been a priority since you left Mom. If I were, I wouldn’t have found out Penelope was pregnant from Star magazine in the checkout line at the grocery store.”
No way can I tell him I found out from Melvin, but he saved me from having a seizure when I eventually saw it.
My dad has the decency to wince. “I apologize about how you found out about the pregnancy. Paparazzi followed her to her OBGYN appointment. We hadn’t planned to tell anyone yet.”
“I’m not moving back to California.”
“We could spend more time together. Hang out. Go to some Lakers games.”
“You work twelve-hour days. We’ll never hang out. And the last thing I want to do is go to a game so you can wave at the jumbotron and schmooze whatever celebrity sits next to you.”
“I’ve gotten some important endorsements that way.”
“Can I stay at your condo here or not? Because if I can’t, I have to find a hotel.”
“I’m not paying for a hotel.” Says the man who is hogging the entire patio dining area of the Four Seasons.
“I wasn’t asking you to.”
That tick in his jaw goes off again. “I won’t fund your little yoga project if you don’t come home.”
Has it really come to this? Somehow, my entire relationship with my father is one giant negotiation.
“I miss the parent who didn’t wear name-brand clothes, the guy who struggled to make ends meet. It sounds crazy, but I feel like you knew more about loving your family when we were clipping coupons.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Because you can’t take your company or your planes or your awards with you when you die. The only thing you have are the people you’ve loved and those who have loved you. And yeah, I just got my heart broken, but Dad, I let myself love. I’m not some walled-off VIP who’s only focused on my next accomplishment no matter the cost to my family.”